Night escape

Now Racing heart. Sweat cut by the misty chill. Running away with great speed.

¿Howling from far off cars, or wind? Street lamps and fullmoonlight just past clouds look like little rainbow stars, cause astigmatism. Barefoot on damp blacktop sidewalk. Chilly soles and toes hoping up and down. Each time toe hits ground yelp inside. So cold.

Can’t stop thinking of past hour. Of orange many headed-ogre. Of crashing noises. Must focus on escape. Instead of thinking, run.

Alert eyes jump side to side. Outlines of trees, all black. Some nearby lamps clothed in green lichen, but otherwise greyscale. No people and no monster. Only occasional rushing cars with starry headlights blazing their way.

¿Should I find place to hide? ¿To avoid and escape? ¿Maybe throw rock at car? ¿Stop it? Maybe stupid idea would cause angry driver. I stop running and panic on ground.


Nameless little cousins whine and my ear buzzes. Sitting at Christmas dinner with family. Honeyed ham. I quiet and alone at table. They chat with liveliness and seasonally appropriate jolly voices. Normal order of things. I even utter politenesses in my timeless monotone.

Each evening with this big family—mostly not real family since they only here at Christmas—as I saying, each evening with this big family chaos and noise. Brian don’t mind. I mind.

Everyone talking about honeyed ham and how their year been. Drinking eggnog. Good stuff, but so much noise. Not muttering under breath, because can’t hear own thoughts.

Brian and all demon cousins play with toy train. They loudest and worst. I’m watching everything and each buzz sound and each word sound lingers. ¿Why can’t music this loud instead?

Eyes open. Windows at least look quiet, but usually there’s snow at Christmas. Mom says I can’t leave room. Stupid.

Looking at peaceful nature in window. Something moves.

“Something moved outside the window”

Uncle Marvin chuckles.

Clunk. Orange slime smear on window obscures sight of tree. I get away from table and walk toward window. Big eyes appear in window. “There’s an eye in the window”

People look up and I start to run away from eye. I’m at other end of the room.

Shatter. Has six cyclops heads on ten foot body. Squeezes through window. Gross oozing tentacled thing. Dripping orange. Dripping translucent mucus same shade as pale blood. I run as it stands to full height.

See no other escapee.


Sickening. Tired. Just sitting on side of road and waiting for something to come. ¿Live through the night?